


Crazy In Love

by velvetcadence



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Blow Jobs, Charles is a Tease, Dancing, Engagement, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:39:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetcadence/pseuds/velvetcadence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik's "painfully boring" bachelor party gets shaken up when his fiancé drops by to entertain. Then "painfully boring" becomes "painfully arousing." Fortunately, Charles knows how to make it up to him with a different kind of dancing altogether.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy In Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Black_Betty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Betty/gifts), [GQD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GQD/gifts), [ang3lsh1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lsh1/gifts).



> Inspired by Q’s [art](http://garnetquyen.tumblr.com/post/70373800633/oho-this-little-comic-which-based-on-a-scene)! And kudos to Di and Betty for the [prompt](http://black--betty.tumblr.com/post/66572580472/nieniekoto-raisesomehale-inquiringcharlie) which contains a video I highly recommend you check out. Betty also wrote a separate fill over [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1040808).

The last thing Erik expects to see at his own bachelor party is his own fiancé, dolled up in painted-on jeans and a white shirt that is so thin it barely qualifies as clothing. Charles had come into the room with a paper-thin disguise: trench coat, his favorite pair of sunglasses, hair artfully tousled. The only reason Erik doesn’t notice him immediately is because Azazel is pouring him a shot and ribbing him about married life. He’s only got a handful of his friends here tonight, but the haze of drink and the treasured company keeps him content. As far as bachelor parties go, this one has been “tasteful and painfully boring,” in Emma’s words, but one that nevertheless suits his needs perfectly.

“Painfully boring” quickly becomes “painfully arousing” as soon as Erik takes stock of the cleared area in the living room and Beyoncé begins to play. Charles takes his trench coat off with a flourish, whipping his head towards his suddenly raucous audience and cocking his hip to the beat. It takes Erik a long moment to process the devil on the dance floor as his own fiancé.

“Holy shit,” Janos remarks beside him.

“Looks like you lucked out in tonight’s entertainment, huh, Lehnsherr?” Azazel teases, leaning over the back of the couch.

Erik doesn’t even bother to answer, his eyes roving Charles’ form. In all this time, Charles hasn’t looked away from Erik, his attention visible even through the sunglasses, mouthing the lyrics to the song straight at him. Every now and then, the shirt lifts to expose his toned stomach, making Erik literally salivate.

By the time the song is done Erik is just about ready to jump out of his skin with how aroused he is. Charles smirks, draping himself over Erik’s lap and lazily teasing the hair at his nape. “I hear you’re getting married to some lucky bloke in a few days,” he says.

“I think _I’m_ the lucky bloke,” Erik grins, just a tad breathless.

“Are you now?” Charles raises an eyebrow, cupping the side of Erik’s face. “I have to go, but I’m sure he won’t mind if I steal a kiss or two. The dance is on the house.”

Before Erik can reply, Charles leans in and presses a hot kiss to his open mouth, licking his way in with practiced ease. Then he pulls away and picks his coat up with a flourish, pulling the lapels down with the same smug look he knows drives Erik crazy.

Emma closes the door behind Charles with the widest shit-eating grin Erik’s ever seen grace her face. “Now I wonder who that could be.”

“No idea,” Azazel adds, face barely straight. “But I wouldn’t mind him coming to _my_ bachelor party.”

Erik throws a pillow at his face for that.

* * *

 Charles comes over the next day, and Erik proceeds to release all of his pent up frustration from the night before in one enthusiastic session against the wall.

“I swear you were born just to drive me insane,” Erik says, after they’d showered (had sex), had lunch (and then sex) and taken a nap. “One day I’ll find out how you’ve managed to make me fall so crazy in love with you.”

“It’s all in the hips,” Charles demonstrates, standing over him on the bed with his hip cocked to the side, striking a pose. He must know what it does to Erik, to be able to gaze freely at his fine form: the shape of his calves, the sturdy thighs, the contrast of the muscle of his arms to the floppy sweater he’s wearing. Erik strokes an ankle with his thumb as Charles continues to fluidly move through poses.

 _No special technique my ass,_ Erik thinks, grabbing the edge of that damnable sweater.

“I like it when you dance. But I’d rather you were dancing with me.”

“Oh?” Charles cocks an eyebrow, placing his weight on his knees but otherwise not touching Erik at all, the tease. “What kind of dancing do you prefer, darling?” A shiver goes through Erik, and he’s just shy of rolling over and pinning Charles to the bed when the good professor leans in to give him an Eskimo kiss. It's a sweet gesture on its own, but the heat Charles brings to it is amazingly hypnotic, and his body refuses to move until Charles whispers hotly in his ear, “Salsa? Tango? Or a different kind of dancing altogether?”

At this, he grinds down, warm against Erik’s groin even through the layers of his boxer shorts and the sheet. Erik arches in reply, knowing that his torso looks good when he flexes it this way and that Charles' appreciation may speed things along.

Charles smiles at him, giving him playful kisses from the edge of his jaw to the edge of his grin. “You’re so handsome when you smile.”

“Don’t I look like a shark?”

“I like it,” Charles says, nipping the tip of Erik’s finger when he traces a line across Charles’ bottom lip.

“I like yours more.”

“I keep telling our friends you’re a romantic, but they _never_ believe me.”

“Good. I’ve got to keep my reputation.”

“What reputation?”

Erik’s comeback to that is a generous grope of ass. Charles moves into it with a strangled moan, starting to flush deeply. “And here I thought gentlemen never kiss and tell,” Erik says.

“I never claimed to be one,” Charles breathes, rocking his hips back and Erik continues to squeeze and pinch. “Mmmm yeah, slap me,” he jokes. He yelps when Erik actually does so, watching the jiggle of his boxer shorts, growing tighter as the bulge in Charles’ front perks to attention.

“Get this off,” Erik growls, pulling the band of the shorts to snap it playfully at Charles’ skin. In retaliation, Charles pinches one of his nipples before getting off the bed to hunt for lube. The tube had fallen off the bed during the morning romp, so Charles takes the opportunity to slide his shorts down slowly, tantalizingly slowly, watching Erik watch him with a coy smile over his shoulder. Then he steps out of his underwear.

He grins at the wicked smirk Erik gives him, a foil packet held between two fingers. Charles leans in and fetches it with his teeth, breathing hotly over Erik’s hand.

“My god, Charles.”

Charles winks. “Let me show you something.” He tears the foil open with his teeth and positions the condom in the ‘o’ of his lips. He shimmies down the bed until he’s between Erik’s legs, holding his cock by the base. Erik groans, already excited, and Charles descends, his mouth a hot furnace. He rolls the rest of the condom down with his fingers what he can’t reach with his mouth without choking, and afterwards squeezes Erik’s balls as he sucks powerfully, once, twice. Erik can’t hold himself back from gripping Charles by the nape and pulling him up to suckle at that sinful tongue and bite at his lips. They get lost in that, just kissing, and Erik doesn’t think he’s ever felt so infatuated as he does now.

When Charles pulls away to breathe, Erik rolls them over to hitch one of Charles’ legs above his shoulder. It’s so sexy, how he’s so pliable. There’s no mistaking the strength of his thighs, and Erik sucks a love bite on the junction of his knee just because; he loves the way Charles moans, low and needy.

“Gonna open you up,” he says. “Fuck you with my fingers ‘til you’re begging.”

“Oh fuck,” Charles bites his lip, his gaze electric as he watches a huge dollop make its way to Erik’s hand. He’ll never know what effect he has on Erik with his cursing, his posh English accent curling over the coarse word. The neckline of his sweater is exposing one of his shoulders, marked with the imprint of Erik’s teeth. “Mmmm...”

Erik swallows the rest of his moans as he coats his own cock and teases Charles with slick fingers just for the heck of it, playing first with the rim of his hole and then the slow drag and heat of his skin. Charles gets restless until Erik relents and coaxes a finger in, knowing well enough to drag the tip of it just against the spot that drives Charles wild. “Come on,” Charles coaxes, his own hand grabbing a handful of Erik’s rear. He's pushy, but sometimes Erik simply likes to feel him around his fingers. He wonders if Charles will let him fist him, let him sink his fingers in him until he’s mindless with the stretch and the pleasure.

“Maybe next time,” Charles whispers against his lips, pushing at Erik’s shoulder until they’re rolling over and Charles is on top again.

“You’d let me?” Erik asks, his hands settling on Charles’ hips, dizzy from want and Charles’ promise.

“Oh, Erik, I’d let you do anything to me.” The way Charles rolls his name around his mouth like a sweet is so enticing. He’s about to grab at him again when Charles squeezes his hands at his hips to keep them there.

“Just watch,” he says, and Erik lies back, certainly appreciating the exhibitionist streak.

Charles starts with slow rolls of his hips, the crease of his ass pressing Erik’s cock down, his erection only a vague shape through his sweater. He raises the hemline teasingly until his navel is exposed, and Erik licks his lips at how hard he is, how delicious he looks, the head of his cock beading with arousal. He doesn’t stop gyrating even as he drags his sweater over his head; somehow he makes a dance of it, biting his lip coyly and holding the cloth to his chest, releasing his arms from the sleeves one by one.

“Charles,” Erik groans, trapped by nothing but the command that he only watch. Charles smirks devilishly at him and tosses the sweater away, moving Erik’s hands from his hips to his knees, guiding them to caress him up to the smooth skin of his abdomen. Erik’s hands wander up to Charles’ nipples, fondling them as Charles reaches behind him for Erik's cock.

He swipes the tip of Erik’s cock with the rim of his hole, passing it back and forth until Erik can't stand the tease and holds him still to push him down. The flush on Charles’ cheeks has traveled down his chest, and he looks radiant with pleasure, his mouth open as he works his way down. If he were still wearing his glasses, they’d be slipping down his nose. Erik thinks that he should surprise Charles at the office again sometime, get him even more rumpled before class. He likes the thought of unleashing the sex god hiding in dowdy Professor Xavier’s tweed.

There’s a breathless moment when the head of Erik’s cock pops in. Charles is panting, prolonging the stretch and pleasure, his ass clenching rhythmically. It takes everything in Erik not to slam up into him. His thumbs are digging bruises in Charles’ thighs as he pushes down with tiny circling motions, sheathing Erik completely to the balls.

“My god, Erik. I can feel all of you,” Charles moans.

“Move, Charles,” Erik hisses, squeezing at his cock, and Charles does so, planting his hand flat on Erik’s stomach and swivelling his hips. He establishes a rhythm, slow and deep, his brows knitted together in concentration. Erik feels like his bones have melted—at every upstroke Charles clenches, so all Erik can really do is adjust the pillows behind him and watch Charles dance, searing the image of him sex-flushed and wanton into memory.

“Love watching you,” Erik says, his gaze hot and half-lidded. Charles breaks rhythm to lean over him and take his mouth in a sensual clash of tongues. He nips Erik’s chin when he withdraws, using Erik’s raised knees to support him as he rocks back and forth, back forth.

“Fuck,” Charles says, finding the spot that gets his toes curling and his body arching in electric pleasure. “There, there, ohhh fuck, fuck me—”

The headboard is creaking with every powerful flex of Charles’ thighs. The sheets are hot and sticking under Erik, and on his abdomen is a sweet ache, remnants of their previous exertions, but Charles is a vision that supersedes any discomfort. He comes with a strangled groan, from barely a touch to his own cock.

Erik comes on the heels of Charles’ orgasm, the pleasure dragging on long after the fact. They're both trembling in the aftermath, Charles' arms tired from holding himself above Erik.

"Come here," Erik says, amused that even now Charles is still trying to be considerate. When he pulls, Charles goes, and Erik takes care to tuck his fiancé’s head under his chin. He may not look it, but he likes the cuddling as much as the sex. Charles is especially good at cuddling.

“I love you. I love your hands,” Charles confesses after some time, sleepy and loose with his words. He’s twining his fingers through Erik’s, caressing the in-betweens of his hand with his own. “It was the first thing I noticed about you. You were holding a pencil and drawing perfect circles.”

“I know,” Erik says. “You kept asking how I did it.”

“It’s wizardry.”

“Mm...”

“Erik?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I’m glad I’m marrying you.”

Erik breathes a kiss to the top of his head. “I do love you, you silly man.”

Charles hides his grin in the curve of his fiancé’s neck, but he’s sure Erik can hear his smile when he says, “I do, too.”


End file.
